To The Moon And Back
by ttfan111robstar1
Summary: When Misa goes missing, Light contemplates their relationship as he remembers a story his mother told him so very long ago. Now, he could only hope it was true.


Winter snowflakes floated gracefully toward the ground in Japan, melting almost instantaneously as they made contact with sidewalks, buildings, trees, and occasionally people. It was rare that it snowed here, rarer still that the snow collected on the ground. It was the season's first snowfall, only made possible because temperatures were at the freezing point outside. Still, the sight of it all seemed to fill passersby with a certain kind of magic that belonged to the first snow of the season.

Light Yagami stared out of a window, witnessing the sight of small children reaching gloved hands up to catch a snowflake. He could recall the magic that winter brought him as a small child. He remembered going outside and looking up at the sky, feeling as small as he could have felt as he watched the snowflakes tumble down toward earth. He felt as small as he did back then in this moment, though the magic of the first snowfall was long gone. Instead, it was replaced by a cold that penetrated his very bones.

It had been three hours. Three hours, and she hadn't come back as she said she would. There had been no doubt in his mind that something had happened. Misa had said she would be back from the movie shoot in time to take him to lunch, and she was three hours late. There was no way she would ever miss a date with him. Something had to have happened to her. He'd spoken to his father, to Ryuzaki, told them his suspicions. They had agreed it was unusual for her to miss a date with him and not bother calling to let him know, and had made it known that they did agree with his assessment that she might have been missing. The shock had set in soon after that, making him an ice sculpture, frozen in place by the winter temperatures outside.

There was a small fire pit in his line of sight as he looked out of the window. A small family was gathered around it, holding mugs of what he thought must be hot chocolate. The plaza near the building Ryuzaki had bought always had one during the winter. He'd walked by it so many times, feeling a blast of heat warming him, and then the cold settling in again. Now, his gaze was transfixed on the flickering flames outside the window, as though the dancing flames could tell him something he did not know. He watched them, picturing the ashes the sent into the air spinning in a celestial dance.

Misa had asked him to dance once. He'd told her that he didn't dance, and while that was true, it was more because he hadn't wanted to do so. Her pout hadn't surprised him, and her shrugging it off hadn't either. Now, however, it did. He knew he'd disappointed her, and he hadn't cared. He _should_ have cared. With how she served him so selflessly for the creation of the new world, he should have indulged her more often. It was a dance, not world peace. He shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss her.

_Light, what's so wrong with taking a break once in a while?_

Nothing, Misa. That's what he wanted to tell her. There was nothing wrong with taking a break, and she was the one who made sure he did it. If she didn't tell him he needed to go to bed or stop him from getting too deep into his own head, he might not have made it as far as he had in his game of cat-and-mouse with Ryuzaki. Had he ever thanked her for that? If not, why not? What on earth had he had to lose by taking ten seconds to thank her for making sure he kept up on sleep so that he could be at his best all the time.

_Oh, Light, you're the best thing that ever happened to me!_

Whether he had realized it or not, she was the best thing that had happened to him, too. Her eyes had proven invaluable tools for his mission, her devotion his most lethal weapon. The fact that he had somebody in his life who would do whatever he asked without question was one of the best gifts a fledgling God like himself could have gotten, and he'd taken it for granted.

_I won't take you for granted again, Misa. Just come back so I can prove it._

It was astounding how much reevaluating of his own actions he'd done in a few short hours. It was intriguing how much his perspective had shifted. He had always seen Misa as a maneuverable pawn in his quest for godship. He hadn't cared about her feelings, and only cared about her wants insofar as doing the bare minimum to keep her happy so that she would continue to obey him. Now, however, all he could focus on were her emotions. Even if it was only in relation to him. He was certain if he thought about how scared she must have been or how she was probably praying for him to save her, he'd crack the walls that normally contained his emotions and start to cry.

Something touched his shoulder, then brushed against his hand. Something soft. It took him a moment to realize that it must have been a blanket. Someone- his father, he presumed- must have seen his shaking. That was nice. He probably should have said thank you, but he couldn't bring his mouth to move.

_I'm sorry, I'm talking too much, aren't I?_

She'd asked him that once. He'd simply nodded in response, then changed the subject. He'd never thought to tell her that sometimes her prattling on about something completely random always indicated to him that he was home. He'd never bothered to let her know that sometimes her chatter filled his head so perfectly that he couldn't drive himself crazy with his own thoughts because he was so focused on hers. There had been so many times when he had worried that he was going insane trying to prove to Ryuzaki that he was not Kira when in actuality he was, and then Misa would come into the room, eager to chat with him about some insignificant thing, and he'd forget about all of that for a while, giving him a chance to gain a fresher perspective on things.

_Why didn't I tell you that when I had the chance?_

He hadn't cared. It was the simple truth behind the matter. Or, to put a finer point on it, he'd taken it for granted because he'd never once thought that Misa, of all people, could be taken from his side.

_I'll always be by your side, Light. Through anything that comes our way._

It was a promise made to him when they'd first moved to their apartment. He'd never once thought that she would ever break that promise, and to a degree he was right. The caveat, of course, was that she'd never break that promise _intentionally_. He should have counted on unforeseen circumstances, but had been naive enough to assume that he would be able to control everything with the Death Note. Now, with things so out of his own control, he could see how blind of an assumption that was.

He wondered why this guilt was bothering him so much now. There were times when things had happened to her before- her being taken by Ryuzaki, her infiltrating the Yotsuba group- and his own guilt hadn't made any appearance. He tried to think of something that could have triggered this kind of response in himself, and every time in his search for that, his mind brought him back to one specific instance over and over again.

He'd gotten home late to a seemingly empty apartment, which hadn't been good because he needed to give Misa instructions for names to write in the death note that day. He thought her movie shoot must have ran late. Oh well. He wasn't happy with his schedule being thrown off like that, but he knew he would have to deal with it. He'd been on his way to his own room when he thought he'd heard something from behind Misa's closed doorway. His adrenaline spiked, and he opened the door just enough to look inside in case it was an intruder.

It wasn't.

Misa was on the floor, wearing a black silk nightgown, crying with her head in her hands. These delicate little sobs were far different from the overly dramatic tears he was used to from her. They were the mark of true upset rather than grief born out of bravado. She was facing away from him and hadn't noticed him yet, so he opened the door wider. A sliver of moonlight illuminated her figure, somehow making her seem more delicate than he'd first thought.

He didn't know how long he had stared at her, wondering how often she cried like that. He also couldn't help but wonder if she sometimes hid her tears from him, just so he wouldn't worry or get upset with her. He'd closed the door silently, feeling as though he was witnessing something he wasn't meant to see, and that had been that.

The sight of her, usually so joyful now so full of sorrow, had stuck with him all of this time, awakened something hidden inside of him. Maybe that was the moment that he'd made something more of her than just a pawn. Maybe that was the moment that had made him open his heart so that she could settle in the seams of it. Maybe that was what made him love her.

_I love you from here to the moon and back, Light. Nobody else will ever love you like that._

She'd told him that so many times. He'd always believed her, always trusted those words. He had never been given any reason to doubt them. Whatever he asked, she did without question. He'd thought that was love. He hadn't realized enjoying her voice was love. He hadn't known that feeling the sharp sting of loneliness in her absence was love. He had been blind before, but no more. He'd had the blinders he'd been wearing ripped off in one swift motion, and now all he could do was scream at the painful realization that might have come too late.

The moon was on the rise now, the sun retreating to the other side of the planet and blanketing Japan in darkness. His eyes were drawn from the unchanging flames of the fire to the moon that was steadily climbing it's way higher into the sky. A scene flashed before him, one that had completely slipped through the cracks of his memory over the years and that he had to grip tightly to let play on.

He'd been maybe six years old, sitting outside with his mother and baby Sayu at night. He'd asked Sachiko for a story, and she told him one.

"Light, Did you know the moon has special powers?" She'd asked him.

"Like what, Mama?" He'd asked, curious.

"The moon is very special because if somebody you love is very far away and you can't see them, the moon still can. So if you want to talk to someone but you can't see them for yourself, you can talk to the moon and the moon will tell them what you want them to know." Sachiko had told him.

"Does the moon tell anybody else what you told it?" He'd asked her. Sachiko had laughed a bit.

"Oh, no. The moon is very good at keeping secrets. I use it all the time to talk to your father."

"Really?"

Sachiko nodded. "Every night I have the moon tell him to get home safely to all of us, and the moon has told him what I said every time."

He'd smiled at that, and snuggled into his mother's side as she rocked Sayu to sleep.

It had been nearly twelve years since he'd thought about that exchange with his mother. He'd never felt a need to take her up on it, in all the years since she'd told that story, but now, it seemed the appropriate time. Since he didn't believe in any God except himself, prayer would do nothing to comfort him. So, perhaps talking to the moon was the answer he needed so desperately.

For the first time in hours, he moved. His head moved upward to look at the moon directly. It felt odd, after so many hours in the same position. His muscles were stiff and movement felt wrong, but slowly, the moment passed. He carefully stood up, having been on the couch for the duration of his time lost in thought, and walked slowly toward the window. He was instinctually aware of eyes on him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention because of it, but he wasn't focused on that. Not here, not now. Some small part of his brain registered that there was chatter before he moved, an indistinct murmuring that kept up a low hum of voices, but now that had all gone silent. The sound of his own footsteps walking toward the window seemed so unnecessarily loud now, and for a brief moment, he was irritated by it, irritated by _them_, everyone watching what he would do next like it was some kind of circus sideshow. But then, he shrugged it off, and kept walking.

His gaze stayed on moon, never once straying from it. If there were others in his pathway, they moved. The feeling of eyes on him stayed, but he paid it no mind as he reached his destination. The moon seemed so much closer when he was up higher like this, as though if he opened a window, he could reach out, grab it, and pull it inside of the building. Moonlight's pale glow enveloped his body, and when he caught sight of his hand as he went to touch the window, his mind flashed back to the night he found Misa crying, and the way her skin looked paler than normal. His did too, now. They finally matched.

He caught sight of himself in the reflection of the glass, and what he saw startled him. He raised a hand experimentally to touch his own face, and the reflection copied him. It _was_ him in the glass. What he saw didn't look like him. His face was longer somehow, more pointed. Dark circles were under his eyes, making his complexion appear chalky. Somehow, despite the lack of them, he could tell where the lines would someday form on his face. Shadows seemed to cast themselves on him, making his expression grim. His eyes, usually so calm and steely, were the eyes of someone who had suffered a thousand years of torment, and was somehow still enduring it. It was the face of a man ten times older than he was, one aged with such sorrow and misery that it seemed impossible that he was still standing. He'd aged thousands of years in mere hours. Perhaps that was the price of love. If that was the cost, he would pay it.

He touched the cool glass of the window with his fingers, resting his hand against it. He wished he could somehow reach through the glass and have arms that would seek Misa out and pull her to him. But as it stood, he was no superhero. He was just a man, trying to become a God, whose ego had taken a terrible hit today when he was proved to, in fact, be as human as any mortal that had ever lived.

"Misa," He whispered to the moon, "Where are you?"

It felt odd to speak after so many hours of silence. His voice came out so quiet, and yet his words silenced the entire room- or maybe it was dead silent before and he was just now noticing because the sound of his own movements had seemed so ludicrously loud. He felt many eyes staring at him, but the laser-like focus of Ryuzaki's and the sharpness of his father's gazes were the two he could feel the most. He could tell where they were in the room without sparing a glance, just because he could feel the intensity of their stares. He had to take in a breath to calm himself. He'd wanted to have a private conversation with the moon, be invisible as he did what he felt he needed to do. Obviously that was not going to happen, and so had to take a moment to get over the fact that now the intimate things he'd wanted to say were going to be heard by an audience- including his father and the man who believed him to be a serial killer. Now he had to measure his words and be careful about how he phrased everything, and he didn't want to do that. He just wanted to feel it. But, like it or not, it was the way things were, and he would just have to deal with it.

"From here… to the moon… and back." He said softly, pausing in between them as he imagined the distance from the point where he was standing to the moon, and back again. "Nobody else will ever love you like that. That's what you told me. I want to hear you say it to me again, Misa. Just one more time."

He let out a breath, and leaned his head forward so that his forehead was touching the cool glass of the window pane. It was a long way down to the street from here. Cars looked so much smaller from up here than they did at the ground level. He found himself watching the glow of headlights and then taillights as they zoomed past him, and he found himself watching for a car slowing down toward the front of the building. He looked for something, anything familiar, but the night had leached all the color away from the passing vehicles, only leaving the street lamps to give him a glimpse of blue, black, and red. The white cars were the only ones he could clearly see from up here.

He shut his eyes a moment, trying to focus on his own breathing, hoping to calm himself when a wave of emotion crested above the walls he had built around himself, and he found, to his great surprise, the feeling of wetness on his cheek. He put his hand to his cheek and pulled it away, shocked at the wetness on his fingertip. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried. The fact that he still had the capability to do so was as shocking to him as the tear itself. Gods didn't cry… Did they? At least, not full Gods. This tear, this single indicator of his weakness, was proof to him of his own mortality. His heart was not made of stone as he'd once thought. Perhaps it was made of glass, then. Fragile and breakable. The thought was upsetting. He shut his eyes again, not wanting to see his reflected self crying.

The silence became louder to him now, and for once he wanted someone to say something. He wanted L to make a smart-ass remark, wanted Matsuda to say something ridiculous, wanted Aizawa to be pissed off. Most of all he wanted his father to say something to clear out this room so that he and his horrifically fragile emotions could be left alone and his shame about breaking down could lessen in it's overwhelming intensity.

No such thing happened, however. The silence just droned on, and it seemed, to him, to last forever as he struggled to get his emotions under control. It was a feat easier said than done. It was like trying to close a floodgate in the middle of a storm after it had been breached. He wasn't sure was going to be able to stand for much longer because he felt as though his legs were about to buckle beneath him with the terribly heavy weight of his own guilt and sorrow.

Somehow, he managed to remain standing as he eventually composed himself. He swallowed, tasting bitter tears in the back of his throat as he tried to regain the self-possession he'd built that now seemed to be completely eluding him. Though it was a struggle, he eventually reined his feelings in, and wiped the tears that had made their way down his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He had the urge to sniff, but controlled it, not wanting to draw more attention to himself than was necessary. There was a small table nearby with a box of tissues on it, and he swiped one, wiping his nose before throwing it in a nearby waste basket. He didn't want to turn around and see the other Task Force members looking at him with what was surely pity, and he especially didn't think he could handle looking at his own father and seeing that in his eyes. For the most composed man he had ever known to look at him like that would be a terrible reminder of his own humanity, and it was a reminder he didn't want.

He returned to the window, watching the cars pass by for a moment, before looking up at the moon again.

_Can you find her, Moon? Can you help her come back so I can tell her I'm sorry for what I didn't do, and thank her for what she's done for me? I just want to see her again. Please…_

It was the interesting thing about humanity, as Ryuk would say. Humans will grasp at any thread that promises to spare them from unhappiness. Light, a man without a God who hoped to become one in his own right, had grasped at a story to help save him from a life alone. He would have grasped at anyone who might have been able to find her. However, Ryuk was nowhere to be found. The absence of the Shinigami hadn't become apparent to him until now, and now that he thought about it was fairly disturbing. Shinigami weren't supposed to leave the humans they possessed. Wasn't that what Ryuk had said?

However, Light realized very quickly that he wasn't the only one Ryuk had possessed. Ryuk had possessed Misa at one time too.

His heart kicked into high gear. Could that be where he was? Finding Misa?

Reality filtered through hope in the next instant. There was no way that was what he was doing. Ryuk made it a point of only being a passive observer. He would never deliberately involve himself unless he had something to gain by it. It was more likely he was trying to find some apples to eat.

Sighing, he looked back down at the cars racing by on the street. He didn't know how long he stood there, looking at them without really seeing them, but when one of the cars stopped outside his heartbeat quickened. Somebody stepped out, and in the light of the street lamps, he caught sight of blonde pigtails.

He tore from the window, bolted across the room and out the doors, running so fast he wondered briefly if he'd ever be able to stop. He flew down the stairs to the ground floor, and looked around wildly.

"Misa!" He called.

"Light?"

He whipped his head around to where her voice came from, and caught sight of her. Her clothes were dirty and she looked exhausted, but she was there, completely safe, completely real. He ran to her, pulled her into his arms and held her as tightly as he could manage. He felt himself shaking, and realized that he was crying. He didn't bother to wipe his tears this time. He didn't want to let go of her.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Well, I was working on the movie and it was around time for breakfast, since we started at five thirty and I hadn't eaten before I got there. Hideki managed to let the director take a break so we could get something to eat, since he hadn't eaten either. He offered to take me on his motorcycle since we could get back quicker. He _insisted_ on driving to Niiza for "The best pancakes in the world", even though it was _fifty minutes _away from the set just to get to Niiza and it took another twenty to get to the restaurant he wanted to go to. I thought we'd just get everything to go, but he insisted we stay and eat, so that took an hour and a half. Sometime I'm going to have to ask him how he manages to manipulate the director like he does. Anyways, while we were on our way back to the set his motorcycle broke down. He had no idea what the problem was, until I found a nail in one of his tires which he pulled out. He had no idea how to change a tire- neither did I, even though I tried- and obviously he didn't have a spare so we had to wait for a tow truck, which took _two hours _to get there because of traffic, and by then I used all the battery in my phone.

The guy gave us a lift and I borrowed his phone to tell the director where we were, but everybody was freaking out because they thought we'd been in an accident or were in the hospital. When we were on the way there the tow truck guy had an emergency of his own come up. Apparently his pregnant wife went into labor, so instead of dropping us off at the set, it was at the hospital, and we had to walk back because neither of us had brought enough to afford a cab after the bill for breakfast came. By the time we got there it was another two hours, I was wearing heels and in serious pain, and they'd called the police because they thought we'd been kidnapped. We had to sit down and tell them what had happened, and by that point it was almost six o'clock so we had to really try hard to fit as much as we could in to try and make up for all the lost time, but everybody was so frustrated that we stopped by eight and took an early day. My director dropped me off here since I couldn't use my phone to call and ask for a ride."

The onslaught of information was nearly enough to drown him, but he didn't care. She was here and she was safe. That was all that mattered.

"I'm so glad you're okay." His voice was hoarse.

"I'm fine. Light?" She asked, pulling back from him. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Misa." The words, hidden inside him for what felt like an eternity, were now out in the open. "I'm sorry that I didn't dance with you, that I didn't tell you how much I like listening to you talk sometimes because it gets me out of my head, and I'm sorry that I took what I have with you for granted, but I'm not making that mistake again."

"Light…" She smiled, cupping his cheek.

"Dance with me." He said softly.

"What?"

"Dance with me."

"But there's no music." She said, though she did take his hand.

"Then we'll make our own." He answered, and began humming. Misa couldn't help giggling as he pulled her close and began to dance with her. He had been honest when he said he couldn't dance, as they never did more than either a box step or turning around in small circles, but she couldn't have been happier. Slowly, she taught him how to spin her around, though she was more than happy to simply maintain close contact with him. Gradually, he became less stiff and learned to loosen up. When their dance finished, they smiled at one another.

Then, he surprised her.

"I love you, Misa." It was the first time he'd ever said the words to her without her doing something that pleased him in order to warrant them. The way her eyes lit up was just about the greatest thing in the world to him right then. He pulled her in for a kiss, and she happily reciprocated. When he pulled away, she stroked his cheek with her hand, feeling the tracks of his tears with the sensitive pads of her fingers.

"I love you too, Light. From here-"

"-To the moon-" he interjected.

"-And back." They finished together. Light was beaming ear to ear at the words.

In that moment, Ryuk came floating through the door of the building, munching on an apple. "What happened to you, Misa?" He asked, curious.

"A motorcycle breakdown, a tow truck ride, a walk from a hospital, and a ride here." She said.

"How very interesting."

"Where did you come from?"

"Market down the street had an apple cart, and I helped myself." Ryuk said, shuddering with pleasure at the memory.

Light normally would have been at best annoyed by Ryuk's comments, but today they just rolled off his back. Misa was safe, and order had been restored in his universe. It was the happy ending he had asked for. He pulled her into a hug that might have been crushing. All of his anxiety, his guilt, his anguish, was absolved in that hug. She didn't mind, though. She was happy to be in his arms again after a stressful day. Light looked out the windows at the front entryway, and could see the moon, far off in the distance now from his spot on the ground. Smiling, he silently thanked it for listening to him.


End file.
